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Happiness comes in many different flavors—and you can find 99
of them in the 2012 book A Private History of Happiness. Author George Myerson has assembled a collection of
snippets from diaries, letters, memoirs and other “life records” that show
“everyday moments of joy in different times and cultures” as recorded by
artists, authors, poets, philosophers and other thinkers. Many of these moments
take place while the individuals go about their normal lives—the joy is there
for the recognizing.

After each passage, Myerson relates some background
information on the person who wrote it, and the situation which called up the
moment of happiness. The passages are organized by themes: Morning, Friendship,
Garden, Family, Leisure, Nature, Food and Drink, Well-Being, Creativity, Love
and Evening. Some of the writers are well-known, (Benjamin Franklin, George
Eliot, Ptolemy and Leo Tolstoy, for example), but many are not.

I met many interesting people on these pages, like law
student George Cutler (“A Breakfast Served with Stories and Laughter”) whose
jubilance shines through his words:

“For the moon was bright, the snow full of reflection, I
full of breakfast, and Nate [his horse] full of fire; while the cocks of the
country crowed about us for music and the stars shot this way and that about
the heavens, as if making a display of fireworks for our amusement. All was
silent. As we rose [rode up] the hills and looked back upon the far distance
which ran down the valley to the southeast, the two extremes of the splendour
of the united powers of snow and moonbeams and the contrasted darkness of the
deep ravines into which light would not penetrate, filled the whole view. I
often stopped to admire the cold but burnished beauties of the prospect and
felt the magnificence of the scene.

“I found George up, though I little expected it when I
turned a corner to take a look at his window. I had little thought of seeing a
light there at that time of the night—I ran upstairs, opened the door an inch
and inquired if Mr. Gibbs lived there. Then we laughed ourselves to death and
disturbed the neighbors….

“Breakfasted there and told stories till I thought I had
told too many […]….”

And pioneer woman Lodisa Frizzell (“Home-Style Cooking on
the Wagon Trail”), writing about the comfort of food on the way west in 1852:

“We encamped in a beautiful place, on the bank of a stream
called Elm Creek, under the shade of two large elm trees; here was good grass,
plenty of the best of wood, and some water, for the creek was very low, and as
the sun was 3 hours high or more, some went out hunting while the old doctor,
Beth [Bethel], and I went to cooking; we soon had the best of a fire, cooked
some meat and beans, stewed some apples and peaches, boiled some rice, and
baked biscuit, and fried some crulls, and as I had a glass pickle jar full of
sour milk, and plenty of salaratus [baking soda], I had as fine cakes as if I
had been at home; and when they returned in the evening we had a general
feast.”

A Private History of
Happiness is a wonderful book to dip in and out of. These stories serve to
remind that it’s often the little, sometimes unnoticed moments that bring the
most happiness. We don’t have to search for happiness, or wait for it to come
to us someday when we’ve reached a certain goal or milestone. When we stop and
look around, we find that happiness has been here all along.

I experienced a moment similar to these a few weeks ago, which I wrote about here. What small moments of happiness have you experienced?

If you’re at all familiar with home organizing websites (or
Pinterest) then you’ve probably come across the concept of “30 Days of
Organizing.” With my affection for lists and for clearing out and decluttering,
I’m always drawn to these lists and often start off making my own with a burst
of enthusiasm—enthusiasm that fades approximately five days into the whole
deal. You see, I’m always attracted to the fantasy idea of “getting things
under control” in a set time, like 30 days. Never mind that life itself resists
efforts to control it, and likely will never be under control. Never mind that my list often sounds about as fun
as 30 days of dental appointments. (How much interest can I really drum up in
cleaning the bedroom ceiling fan?)

So as I was making my latest dreary home organizing list, I pondered
taking the 30 days concept in a much more enjoyable direction. What about
scheduling 30 days of creativity? Or 30 days of sketching, writing, gratitude,
or even pampering? Oh, oh, oh—or 30 days of chocolate! Gee, those sound a lot
more fun! Frankly, I have more need of scheduling creativity and fun that I do
chores. Despite my sensitive conscience and obsession with contributing to
family life, I do enough. Instead of
adding more to my workload, I’m going to schedule in some fun.

As I was thinking about this idea, I also remembered
something I’d read on Matt Cutts’ blog—a slightly different take on the 30 days
concept. Matt is a software
engineer and head of Google’s Webspam team and he chooses a new 30-day
challenge every month. Some of his challenges have been 30 days of: exercise;
acts of kindness; avoiding reading, watching or hearing the news; drawing
something; and ukulele! Here’s a link to a video of Matt giving a short TED
talk about 30-day challenges:

I decided to go for 30 Days of Creativity, and here are a
few things I’ve jotted down on my list (any suggestions?): go on an artist’s
date; finish filling my sketchbook that only has two or three blank pages left
in it; write a haiku; take some photos. At this point, I’m not going to limit
myself to any one area of creativity, but I am going to try hard to make it 30
consecutive days. That will be a big challenge for me, because I often find it hard
to do anything for 30 consecutive
days, even fun things. I usually miss a day here and there, but I won’t beat
myself up about that. Any step in a more creative direction will be progress.
To keep me honest, I’ll let you know when I officially start my experiment, and
post updates about it here on the blog.

In my opinion, we don’t need to add more work to our lives.
We need to add more joy, more play, more fun and creativity. There will always
be more than enough work to fill our time—but is that really how we want to fill it?

A couple of months ago, one of the founders of Happify.com
contacted me to ask if I’d like to be a beta tester of the site before it went
public. Of course I said yes, because I’m always interested in all possible
ways of increasing happiness for myself and others.

Created by a combination of scientists and game designers,
Happify uses games, quizzes and activities designed to help improve your level
of happiness because, as they write in the About Happify section, “Just like
physical fitness, there are activities you can do on a regular basis to become
happier.” Scientific evidence indicates that about 40% of our happiness level
is within our control (the remaining 60 % stems from genetics and demographics).
That means that we can have a
significant impact on how happy we feel by doing things that make us
happier.

Happify has broken down the activities into five “essential
happiness skills”: Savor, Thank, Aspire, Give, Empathize. Once you sign up,
you’re given an initial assessment of your happiness level. Then you choose
a “track” to follow. You can measure and follow your progress on your
designated track, and you can switch tracks if you want to. Most activities
take only a few minutes, with a few more minutes more to write about them. Some
you can pledge to do, then come back and report on how they went. You can read
about the science behind each activity by clicking the “Why It Works” button. Members
are encouraged to follow other members, “Like” and comment on others’ Happify
posts. You can set each activity to be visible to your followers, or just
yourself. (To protect people close to me, I chose to keep a couple of the more
sensitive activities private.) You can choose photos to illustrate your posts
from the Happify site, from Facebook or from your own computer. There is also a
Happify Facebook Group you can join.

In addition to Happify members’ posts, Happify’s home
page features the “Daily Happifier”—photos, videos, quotes or short stories
intended to boost your mood.

So far, I’ve completed one track: “Cope Better with Stress,”
and I’m now working on “Nurture Your Body and Soul.” Other tracks include
“Appreciate What You Have,” “Explore the Art in Happiness,” “Be More Socially
Connected,” and “Enjoy Parenting More.”

So what do I think? I have to admit my initial response when
I started was to feel more stressed! (Oh, no—I’m falling behind on my happiness
activities!) The program is set up so you do a certain number of activities in
a certain time frame, and I could not keep up. This was partly because since I
am a “Pioneer,” I was taking them very seriously and wanting to put some time
and thought into each activity. I wanted to post, comment on others’ posts and
give feedback as often as I could. Once I realized I could extend my track as
often as I wanted, and that no one was pressuring me to finish, I settled down
to my own slightly plodding and erratic pace and relaxed about the whole thing.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned so far is how oblivious I am
throughout the day. I don’t take the
time to notice and savor. I charge through my days trying to “achieve” as much
as I can, whether that means a writing project, household chore or batch of
errands. I’m missing my own life! The Happify activities, many of which require
a bit of reflection, have helped me be more mindful, to plan treats for myself and others, and to think more deeply about
my life.

I think if you go at your own pace, and participate as much
or as little as you like, Happify can
be a fun way learn more about what makes you happy, as well as connect with
others who are focused on bringing more joy to everyday life. Happify has
extended an invitation to my readers, so if you want to check out
Happify for yourself, click here. And let me know what you think!

This column originates in Nebraska,
and our office is about two hours’ drive from that stretch of the PlatteRiver where thousands of sandhill
cranes stop for a few weeks each year. Linda Hogan, one of our most
respected Native writers and Writer in Residence for The Chickasaw Nation,
perfectly captures their magic and mystery in this fine poem. [Introduction
by Ted Kooser.]

One of my heroes is gone. On Saturday evening, my
grandmother, Vivian Burch Holmes, passed away at the age of 97.

My grandma was my hero because she was so full of life,
interested in living and in other people right up until the end. Until
recently, she went to hospitals and nursing homes to visit and play bingo with
the “old people.” She lived independently until November, when the effects of a
small stroke made it too hard for her to climb the stairs to her basement-level
apartment. I know she found it very difficult to move to an assisted living
facility near my aunt, leaving her friends, her church and her independence
behind.

I didn’t know my grandma as well as I would have liked. For
all of my growing up years, I lived in California
and she lived in Virginia. I
visited her a time or two, and she came out to California
a couple times as well, notably for my high school graduation. She wrote to me
regularly, even up until a few weeks before her death. I’m so glad I wrote back
and she was able to hear and understand my letter before she died. I always
thought of her as Grandma Burch, even when she remarried after my grandfather
died. (Her second husband passed away some years ago.)

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Even with our sporadic contact, I have many happy memories
of Grandma. She tried to teach me how to crochet (I never advanced beyond one
long string of yarn) and she did teach me how to do candlewicking. One of my
favorite memories is of the time she came to visit us in Florida,
and my dad and stepmom came from California,
when Nick was about 3. It was near Grandma’s birthday, so every time we went
out to eat, we told the servers it was her birthday, and they came and sang to
her. The best time was at a Mexican restaurant where they made her wear a giant
sombrero while they serenaded her. You can see by her big smile she’s enjoying
the experience! Other memories of that visit include a trip to Disney World,
and a looong toy guitar “concert” given by Nick out on our lanai which everyone
endured more or less patiently.

Grandma lived a full life, and died a peaceful death.
She was loved and she will be missed. She was not rich, famous or powerful, but
she touched and inspired many lives, including my own. I was lucky to be her
granddaughter.

I spent a happy hour sitting on our lanai after dinner one
night last week. I dipped in and out of my book, but mostly I listened to the
birds, trying to identify the different species I saw and heard (I’m terrible
at this but enjoy it anyway). A frog’s voice pulsed from somewhere to my left.
My dog occasionally announced her presence to the world by randomly barking at
nothing in particular. A squirrel jumped onto the screen enclosure with a soft thunk, a couple of people jogged by on
the trail. A hawk perched on the limb of an oak, rubbing his (or her) beak
against the bark. The insects began an evening chorus.

I noticed that when I stop to listen, the quiet evening is
full of small clicks and chirps and rustlings. Noticing them and trying to
figure out what they are gave me deep pleasure.

I’ve noticed, too, that when I slow down the pace of my
everyday activities, I observe so many details I might have otherwise missed:
the way the morning light glows in my bedroom when I open the blinds, the smell
of brewing coffee and of the gardenias on my desk, the taste of strawberries
and the spacecraft-taking-off-for-Mars clatter of the washing machine. These
little details make up the real “fabric of our lives” (with apologies to the
cotton industry) and too often I’m oblivious to them. I think I’ll make sitting
outside after dinner a regular practice. I can always learn to listen better.

My spring break wasn’t really a vacation—my son had already
had his school break and we didn’t go anywhere, but I recognized that I needed
a break from blogging and took one. I didn’t try to fill the days—in fact, I
tried to empty them! But life, as usual, got in the way. While I was “taking a
break,” Scout had some problems and had to go to the vet (she’s feeling better
now) and we helped my son complete a community service project which involved
making 1000 peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches to be distributed to the hungry and homeless. This is what 1000
sandwiches looks like:

Have you noticed that when you cut back on doing one thing,
something else leaps forward to take its place? The time I spend writing posts
and visiting other people’s blogs was easily consumed by other tasks, and by
the end of the week, I didn’t really
feel like I’d had a break. I extended the break into the first part of this
week, and what do you know? I spent hours on Monday doing errands. Clearly, I
need to work on the concept of taking a break.

This non-break taught me something about myself that I
already sort of knew: I feel guilty if I’m not constantly working to contribute
in some way. Since I don’t have a paying job, I drive myself to work for the
family nearly constantly. I have a terribly hard time allowing myself the time
I need for study, thought and yes, doing nothing, in service of feeding my
creativity and my ultimate writing goals which I am ashamed to say have almost
completely fallen into obscurity. I feel bad about this, and instead of
rerouting my energies to fix it, I go for the more obvious (and endless) to-do
list where I can mark off things achieved and actually see a result—a bathroom
cleaned, groceries in the fridge, etc. I’m having a hard time letting go of
tangible results for intangible ones.

I’ve written about this before, and as you can see I
haven’t come up with a solution yet. I’m not giving up, though—I will figure
this out! In the meantime, I’ll try to cut myself some slack, to do a little
bit less in order to do more, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll plan a vacation that
really will be a vacation!

Putting bed pillows onto the grass to freshen, it’s a pretty
humble subject for a poem, but look how Kentucky
poet, Frank Steele, deftly uses a sun-warmed pillow to bring back the comfort
and security of childhood. [Introduction by Ted Kooser.]